


Two of a Kind

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon, Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Science Fiction, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Saihara Shuichi knows that he can't expect to know exactly what will happen next. He still has a list of possibilities. All three of them do.Waking up in a barren place mimicking his bedroom, paired with an unfamiliar yet identical person talking to him through a computer, is not on the list of reasonable outcomes. Expecting to meet who should be the him from that audition is ludicrous.Too bad it happens anyway.





	Two of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Kagehara's name is basically a weird translation from Twitter auto translation. It's shockingly serviceable. Just using Saihara Shuichi or Kagehara felt odd... But I probably can't use Wang Ma Kichichi. Or Cruncher Mario. 
> 
> Also I want to see sixth trial again. Mad Shumai is great! 
> 
> Lowkey a gift for a friend too bc we need this content.

"I'm a what exactly?" Shuichi slowly askd the face across from him. The very familiar yet so utterly different face, the boy that looks so much like him. 

From the uniform to the hat that is no longer on a head of mostly identical hair, it's him. This is that ghastly reflection that Shirogane says, said, Shuichi once was. Him, pre-game. It's completely unfair that leaving that glass cage behind has resulted in this. Going into a sleep-like state while walking with Harukawa and Yumeno. Only for a home to wake up in an empty version of his old bedroom.

Dark wooden furniture, and flooring, with lighter colors for everything else. Cream white walls and light blues alongside spots of navy and charcoal. Nothing else though. 

With the computer screen having the face of some sickening spector inside.

"A brain scan..." the other Shuichi slowly repeats. For a moment, it seems like he's going to start reading whatever it is he's looking at in his lap. Instead he hiccups and says, "I- I can't do this anymore! You're right, you're right even if you didn't know everything. The characters in Dangan Ronpa aren't supposed to be AI that qualify for personhood, but you are!"

Gold eyes stare into watering honey-brown. Shuichi’s mouth slowly opens, blinking emptily as his apparent original starts to sniffle. It's awkward enough that part of Shuichi wants to look away. Only to save himself the utter embarrassment of seeing it though. He's still suspicious of everything, which prevents that. 

Yet another wobbling of lips heralds tears budding up. Then, the other Shuichi stutters out, "No one knew ab-about it. I'd never have joined if I knew! Ev-everyone thought that the AI characters in Dangan Ronpa weren't, ah. Sapient or sentient."

Cold comprehension rushes into Shuichi's mind. He doesn't know much of anything about AI. Despite knowing Kiibo, seeing Monokuma and the Cubs, the boy doesn't know. But he can at least tell that his pre-game is connecting a few things. Shuichi himself is right. Not all artificial intelligence are people. Dangan Ronpa uses what at least some consider as people. And that's wrong. If those are all connected then... 

"What exactly made it obvious? Why was it suddenly different from any other Killing Game full of blood and suffering?" Shuichi pointedly asks while watching the screen. 

Those not-his eyes focus onto his face.

"No one ever rejected Dangan Ronpa before. That's the one thing that simple AI, or VI, can't do. They can't do what you did," is the weak muttering that Shuichi hears. Just as sullen yet sincere as before. 

"Some people said it was a glitch but..."

Ultimate Detective or no, it doesn't take a genius to see that the tears running down this boy's face are somewhat genuine. There's snot, blotchy redness, and such shortness of breath that Shuichi almost feels like he's the one crying. Might be because of the physical similarities though. The pre-game him is far from being Ouma Kokichi. 

"Don't call me an AI. As far as I'm concerned, it's possible that nothing you're saying is true. Plausible too," the Detective firmly states. That anger from Trial number six flares up. It's still sickening to imagine just how many people have died for entertainment. Just because the world wants to use them that way, and the person before him is doing nothing but sob. Rubbing eyes and covering mouth. 

Pitiful is one thing to call it. Shuichi can't help his knee-jerk rejection of feeling sympathy. He doesn't want to feel sorry for someone like this though...

More shudders run through the second him, "I'll stop! Saihara-san is m-more than deserving of that. You won't believe me but I really do admire you!" 

"Don't you mean that you're a 'fan'?" Shuichi questions with far more vitriol than intended. He pauses as those slightly wider eyes stare at him with dismay. The boy grimaces at his reflection and clarifies, "There's nothing that I know about you. In the end, this scenario you're talking about has no way to be verified. I have no evidence either way."

Another round of fidgeting. Sighing and looking down, the boy finally introduces himself, "My name is Nakahara Nori."

Nori is quite obviously not his full name. Shuichi doesn't plan on pushing it though. He only frowns and makes a rolling hand gesture for more. 

"R-right. I'm no longer supporting Dangan Ronpa! I threw away all my merchandise the day after... Not the older stuff though. I'm not sure how to see the original franchise," Nakahara admits while blinking away tears. "All I wanted was to see a character made from me." 

Shuichi is likewise unsure about the prospect of divorcing the ‘real fiction’ Dangan Ronpa from true fiction. The possibility of people enabling the continuation of Killing Games under any circumstances makes him feel ill. Deep within his guts, and a gross tightness in his throat. Can an AI really feel sick like this- but the Ultimate Detective stops himself from thinking that way. If all of this is true then Kiibo’s entire existence is even worse a joke. 

"I've played and organized events in VR before, and Shirogane approached me after auditions. Either an internship with a job lined up, or getting into the official series with extra perks and a maybe job... Being able to help design you even more than usual."

The boy falters and rubs at his chest, heaving with almost rapid breathing, "That was three years ago. I thought it was the most important thing in the world to me. And if I knew then I would have rather died instead."

After saying that, the boy bows so low that the screen can barely show him. 

Shuichi frowns even more. This narrative is too perfect. It makes Nakahara into an innocent tricked by Team Dangan Ronpa, someone that pours his wishes and dreams into something secretly rotten. The idea of that being the full extent of reality feels wrong. Like everything about what Shuichi went through, what killed so many, is nothing more than a cosmic comedy from someone else. Gold eyes narrow as anger makes the Detective's fists clench. 

And yet... 

"There's no furniture here other than the desk and bed. I've tried to not think about it, but the sensory details here are low as well. Bed sheets feeling like nothing… but I'm not drugged. This is a virtual world at the least," the boy eventually states.

"I'm sorry. There's no amount of words to describe how much I regret this. If you tell me to then I'll k-" 

"Shut up!" Shuichi hisses. His face contorting with bursts of outrage. Thoughts of allowing that word to be completed are unbearable. "Don't you dare push responsibilities like that onto me! Don't manipulate me into tolerating you whether you mean it that way or not."

Nakahara whips his head up and stares as if Shuichi is an incomprehensible existence. He croaks out a small noise before looking down at his lap. The Ultimate Detective tries to tell himself that he doesn't feel bad about yelling. It's half true. Shuichi’s mind is still fresh from the Sixth Trial. Everything being as it is and was- Shuichi honestly just doesn't want someone's life in his hands. 

Definitely not someone like Nakahara.

The computer screen, with a hint of static, goes black just as the distorted him tries to speak. 

Shuichi only gazes quietly at the blank darkness, while the sight of the other him is burning into his retinas. Jaw slack with mouth open and lips turned down. Eyes less wide yet all the more shocked. That blotchy mix of pale and red making Nakahara look sunburnt. Furrowing eyebrows. Yet the other boy's off color stare was also shining with something like understanding. Perhaps something like aghast concern as well. 

He doesn't know what to think about it. At all, nothing, Shuichi’s mind doesn't know what to think. The boy can only stand motionless in a well-lit room with no light source. 

Instead, he decides to go with what makes sense even without thinking. 

The entity behind turning off their communication isn't Nakahara.

"If anyone else is listening in, then quite frankly I want nothing to do with you. Whoever or whatever doesn't matter. Let me see my friends again or I'll do anything I can to ruin whatever this is."

A promise.

No answer.

Shuichi’s face grows grim, "Then I hope that those evil AI series I've heard about aren't applicable to reality."

More nothing.

The next hour is spent tearing the room apart. From the seams even, with Shuichi’s fingernails trying to pry wood and walls apart. At first he manages to violently dismantle the desk just by slapping it. Shuichi remembers doing similar things in the game, habitually. It's suddenly very surreal in a way that makes the boy uncomfortable. Which calls for using the ruins of the desk to dent walls. 

Picking up cheap and broken wood that feels like a plastic facsimile, Shuichi grits his teeth and practices swinging it. The weight is all wrong for what it looks like. Or perhaps Shuichi’s body is wrong. 

Either way... 

The boy recklessly charges at the vulnerable wall in front of him.

Drywall immediately caves as a loud thump-crack marks a home run. Shuichi finds himself laughing at the feeling. Impact, and the makeshift weapon getting stuck too. There's no debris of any sort despite the realistic looking result. It really does look like a somewhat odd real life. Yet despite anything else about his violence- the boy feels relief. As though just this is expelling frustration. 

However, Shuichi can't reject the fact that he's at least in VR. Not one hint of dust is floating around. Shard or flecks of drywall aren't falling to the floor either.

Groaning from the evidence before him is an immaturity that Shuichi suddenly craves. So he lets out one low groan before stepping back. His piece of desk hits the floor with a light clatter. Then, tired eyes are treated to the a nail in the coffin. Ruined wall and paint pop back into proper maintenance, all damage undone. There's snapping and the sounds of wooden collision behind the Ultimate Detective's back. Grabbing his new item, Shuichi looks back to see the desk in pristine condition.

"Instead of getting professional help, you decide to let my first conversation be with someone of poor mental health- that I'm predisposed to dislike!" Shuichi says in a barely less than scathing tone. He sneers at the computer screen with all the distaste he can muster.

He stays like that. 

Right up until the screen turns back on to reveal a more put together Nakahara. 

"Saihara-san... I was going to say kick," is the first thing that Shuichi hears. Nakahara fiddles with his black hair and says, "I was going to say that you could kick me from conversing with you, but then your emotional state did that instead."

"Oh... Oh. Well," Shuichi coughs and slowly looks away from the screen.

I'm completely mortified, Shuichi acknowledges. He covertly tries to obscure the side of his face, certain that his heated skin is turning lobster red. Of course the boy would jump on the slightest hint like that. Just as surely as it would be a misunderstanding. Embarrassment doesn't cover this sinking feeling inside of Shuichi’s chest. It's worse than pretending to not understand Ouma’s Yu-Gi-Oh references.

"Please don't be upset with yourself. I was behaving badly, so it's understandable that Saihara-san would think that. With what you heard from me too," Nakahara quickly resumes with worry flooding from his voice.

Keeping quiet is seeming like a great way to avoid the situation. All the anger from before is vanishing. Now, Shuichi is feeling irrationally sad. Which is very much not something that he thinks he should be feeling. One of the first things that Nakahara has said is that Harukawa and Yumeno are meeting their own origins, and that's certainly a good sign for them being alive. 

But what of they aren't?

Nakahara coughs and sniffles, "Excuse me, Saihara-san? Hello?"

What will Shuichi do if everyone is dead? 

"Uh... Right I forgot! You're going to be a bit off due to the completed removal of your script-"

Shuichi’s head snaps towards the screen and his eyes squeeze into teary slits. The blur of not-him but still him squeaks profusely. Carefully, almost gently on how the Detective accuses it, "It's making me act like I'm going through accelerated puberty."

The blur of Nakahara shifts, "Emotional... Uh. I'm sorry, I threw away the paper full of explanations."

"You're an idiot. I hope you didn't get the job."

Awkward silence fills the air before Nakahara coughs, "I'll just go. You can use the computer to talk to all of your classmates."

Gold eyes shut and open rapidly. Shuichi rubs his eyes and finally stands up again. There's a chance that the best interpretation of that is true. It makes him feel less and less sad with each step. Which is awful for quite a few reasons. Mostly because Shuichi has no wish to cycle between different emotions like clockwork. 

"How many of my classmates? Also how old are we?" the Detective asks. 

Honey colored eyes soften at the questions, a timid smile on that similar face. Nakahara exhales and murmurs, "All of them. Dangan Ronpa doesn't delete the dead AI until after the bonus modes. For age, you're chronologically three years old? Not that it really matters for artificial intelligence. A forty year old AI can be less than three months chronologically total."

Shuichi stares numbly at the screen again, "What... What kind of world are you talking about? What kind of reality is this, having things like that?"

"One where you're legally nineteen? You don't remember it, but I've been told that you were all active while everything else was getting made," his reflection puts forth. The possibly man coughs slightly and looks almost puzzled 

“How old are you then?” the Detective questions. "Wait. I don't care anymore... Actually, I'm exhausted from everything. Let me sleep."

The truth is exactly as Shuichi says. He rubs at his forehead and keeps his hand there. Memory tampering is something that he just doesn't want to hear about. Strange societal views about AI age, from brain scans, is something he doesn't want to hear about. A momentary spike of terror is drowning underneath a bone deep drowsiness. Like an act of mercy from Shuichi’s churning brain.

"Y-yeah. This is too much. Not sure why," but Nakahara cuts himself off in another act of mercy. "There's settings for how real things feel. Some have caps so that you don't overwhelm yourself. Anyway, good night Saihara-san."

Gold darts up to see a hand reach for a button. 

"Come back tomorrow. I still want to," a strange frown graces Shuichi’s face. He quickly figures out what he wants to say though. 

"I want to understand you more. The world too. So come back."

After saying that, Shuichi is treated to a smile that he would never expect from someone like Nakahara. He understands exactly why though. That smile made of pure relief and fading tension probably doesn't belong to 'Pre-game Shuichi'. In the end, something both easy and hard to swallow, it's fair to infer that Shuichi’s audition isn't a performance from the other boy. Adult. Man.

Nakahara is still the origin of Shuichi’s existence. Thus, he's the original of that audition too. And by his own admission is he a formerly die hard fan of Dangan Ronpa. Someone that has had a personal hand in Shuichi’s ‘design’. Ignorance can be faked quite easily.

Doubts itch at Shuichi’s mind as he slowly begins to adjusts the world around him. Pale fingers tap endlessly at a what ends up being a touch screen. A large bay window overlooking a forest-side lake, paintings and more furniture that looks antique, and even knick knacks or books; Shuichi happily adds them all to his bedroom. There are no Monokuma on the list… 

The boy watches his hands quiver. There's an 'instant sort' button next to an 'instant adjustment' button. Hovering over everything-

Nostalgia and a sense of mourning drift towards the surface of Shuichi’s mind. This is his. 

His bedroom. This is an empty version of Shuichi’s bedroom, the one in his uncle's place. Probably because whoever has him wants Shuichi to both be comfortable and also aware of his situation. It's cruel. Shoving him in here and making it like a skeleton of what the boy remembers. 

Just before he crawls under thick covers, ones with familiar diamond patterns, Shuichi resets the room to be as he remembers it. A familiar scent of lavender from a gift and all. Novels and research material line dark shelves. Plants fill the air with freshness. Another gift from a client, a large orca plush, rests on a drawer. Shuichi soaks in barely there comfort and prays for the scent of breakfast in the morning- to hear his aunt and uncle talking softly while coffee coaxes them all into wakefulness. Though he knows that it won't. 

Shuichi goes to sleep with his eyes itching.

**Author's Note:**

> Being real clear, this was intended to be selfcest because I need fluff after writing Abysmal. Instead I got... Build up and world building and aaah. A continuation will be separate from this one bc not everyone likes selfcest lol. Just know that it's gonna be fully consensual and fluffy while weird fucky kinky because 💖👀👍👍👍 that's my favorite flavor of jam


End file.
